


me being here and you being off the map

by helloearthlings



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, During Canon, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Missing Scene, Platonic Cuddling, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: June 1, 2016 // May 1, 2018Sammy and Ben try to help each other cope with their respective traumas.





	me being here and you being off the map

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write anything short. Welcome to hell! Welcome to hell!
> 
> I miss my boys so much. Someone just tell me how my boy Sammy Stevens is like, doing right now. I just wanna know if he's eating enough. I wrote some good old-fashioned platonic love about how bad Ben and Sammy are at coping, but how they still try to help each other, because I Love and Miss Them Every Goddamn Day.
> 
> Hope you like it, drop me a comment if you do!

_3:24 AM, June 1, 2016_

Sammy’s on autopilot.

Not that he hasn’t been on autopilot for the past two weeks, ever since Ben stopped coming to work, stopped picking up his calls, stopping answering Sammy’s pleading texts and voicemails, begging Ben to please, please just talk to him, please.

It scares Sammy more than anything, because this is how Jack got, this is how Jack got in those past few weeks, and if Ben disappears, _really_ disappears, whether he goes after Emily wherever she is or whether he gets himself hurt on his quest to find her, then Sammy will have nothing, nothing at all, there will be nothing left for him, nothing left _of_ him.

Sammy loves Ben. He’s known this for a while now, even if it’s been mostly silent in the back of his head, even if he can’t think about it consciously.

It’s not like how he loved Jack – he’s not in love with Ben. Ben’s like – like his brother, like a little brother that Sammy failed to keep safe from the terrors of the world.

Ben’s not safe. Ben’s self-destructive like Jack got self-destructive. Ben’s his own worst enemy like Jack was his own worst enemy. Ben’s going to get himself hurt or worse. _Jack_ got himself hurt or worse –

“And we’re back on 660 AM. You’re here with Sammy Stevens and our special guest for the evening, Mr. Chet Sebastian.”

The words roll off of Sammy’s tongue with ease. He could say them in his sleep without thinking.

At least Ben’s with Troy now. At least he didn’t do anything he’d regret to Tim or Mary, at least the kids hadn’t woken up to see Ben like that, at least Ben was going to be going back to his mom’s. Betty would keep Ben safe, at least for now, Sammy could turn off his fucking head for a couple hours –

Not that that will ever happen, he’ll still be out of his head, but at least tonight he can sleep knowing that Ben’s safe, that Troy’s taking him to Betty’s and nothing horrible can happen to him between now and the next time Sammy sees him.

“…and I told her that there’s no way that that kind of dough will cover a Chet Sebastian kind of weekend out at Sassy’s…” Chet’s been rambling as Sammy goes insane next to him, and Sammy appreciates it even if he can’t quite say so right now. “But I think we’re gonna have to take another quick break, folks.”

“Chet? We were just on break,” Sammy says, confused, wondering if he’d been out of it for that long, but Chet shakes his head, gestures out the little window that goes out into the lobby of the station, away from the recording booth.

Sammy’s heart stutters in his chest when he sees Ben and Troy standing there, Ben looking shaken but altogether whole, Troy with an arm around Ben’s shoulders, talking quietly to him.

Troy reaches a hand up in greeting when he meets Sammy’s eye, his eyes wide and bone-tired.

Sammy’s eyes go straight to Ben, though, and Ben blinks at him a couple times, his eyes apologetic, and he offers up half a smile.

It’s enough. God, it’s more than enough.

“We’ll be right back, folks,” Sammy says, realizing his voice sounds choked up and not caring. He lets Chet put the commercial on, throws off his headphones, and scrambles up and out of the room.

He stops short in front of Ben, raking his eyes over him to check for damages – there’s a cut on the side of Ben’s forehead, his lips are chapped and split, his shoulders are sagging, but he’s there, he’s whole, he’s not gone yet.

“Your mom thinks you’re going home, I called her to tell her Troy was bringing you home,” Sammy says, his brain seconds from short-circuiting, but he gives Troy a questioning look all the same before his eyes travel back to Ben. Ben bites his lip, shakes his head.

“Don’t want my mom to see me like this,” Ben says, shame creeping into his voice. Sammy wants to tell him it’s alright, that his mom will forgive him for anything, that people have done worse things than disappear from their lives for two weeks, that Sammy’s a year into disappearing from his life and isn’t ever going to go back.

“I told Betty I was taking him to you,” Troy says quietly from behind Sammy. “She thought that was a good plan.”

Sammy’s heart breaks for Betty, but there’s a kind of warm feeling in his stomach at the thought of Betty trusting him with her son. Sammy’s own mom – well, Sammy thinks she probably loved him, at least when he was a kid – but she isn’t a pillar of support and love like Betty is, not even close.

“I’ll – I’ll put on a tape or something, take you home,” Sammy says, his anxiety clearly evident in his voice. “Chet, do you know where –?”

Chet cuts off his question as he leans against the door behind them, his own eyes concerned and maybe even a little sad as he regards Ben. “Don’t worry about it, Shotgun. I’ll finish out your show tonight.”

“Chet, that’s so nice of you, but you don’t need –” Sammy starts, and hears Ben speak along with him.

“Oh, Chet, you really don’t –”

“Get the hell home, Benny-Cat,” Chet says, his smile more than a little affectionate, even if his voice was a bit harsh. “Shotgun, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Deputy, how about you step into the booth with me, cover for your friends for the rest of the night?”

Troy smiles from behind Ben, a little bashful. “Oh, me, I don’t – I’m not a radio kind of guy – Sheriff Gunderson might not like –”

“You’re off-duty, Deputy,” Chet says with a jerk of his head in the direction of the booth. “Stick around to finish out the hour with me, let Sammy give Benny a talking-to.”

“I’m not gonna give him a talking-to,” Sammy says with a tired roll of his eyes in Chet’s direction. “But I’ll take you home, buddy.”

Ben smiles, mostly sadly, but a little sheepishly as if maybe he’s a bit ashamed for Sammy to see him like this too, and Sammy can’t have that. He pulls at Ben’s elbow, leads him away from the studio and out to his car.

“Thanks for this,” Ben mutters under his breath as Sammy turns his key in the ignition. “And I’m – I’m sorry for not picking up when you called, I just –”

“It’s okay,” Sammy says, thinking of how he still hasn’t talked to most of his friends from LA, not since after Jack. He’d never had a friendship like the one he and Ben have, though – the only thing comparable was Jack. And Jack was gone. “Don’t – please don’t do that to me again, though.”

“Promise,” Ben says quietly, a little brokenly, but like he means it. It’s enough for Sammy.

* * *

 

_2:54 AM, May 1, 2018_

The black sky above Sammy practically explodes in light as the streams of the Rainbow Lights intersect with the pure white light of the Transmorgrifier, colliding in a burst of endless color.

Sammy is trying to see past that, though, to the station, to the tower, where he’s almost numb with pain as he sees it topple, illuminated by light.

His phone’s gone dead, too. Ben’s voice is no longer in his ear. The tower wasn’t just the radio station, it was cell service, too. And using the Transmorgrifier at this close of range, of course it would short out modern electronics anyway.

Sammy had pulled over when he’d called Ben, he thought it would be the last thing he’d ever do, he thought Ben’s voice would be the last thing he’d ever hear, he thought the Rainbow Lights would be the last thing he’d ever see.

That’s not true, though, not anymore. The sky is black again.

Numbly, Sammy goes to turn his key back in the ignition, but his car won’t start. It sputters, it won’t move. Maybe it’s the battery. Maybe the Rainbow Lights just irreparably fucked with it. He doesn’t know.

He gets out of the car, lets the warm night air hit his face. There’s nothing around him, no other cars, three in the morning is never prime traffic time.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know where to go. He thought he’d be dead by now.

He thinks of Ben’s voice, so terrified, pleading with him to just get to him, that everything would be okay if Sammy could just get to him.

Sammy’s sick with relief. He’s going to see Ben again. He can’t get to Ben, but he trusts Ben to get to him.

He sits by the side of the road, phone in his hands. It’s black, it’s dead, but just in case that changes, he’ll have it there to wait for Ben’s call.

Guilt and shame replace his numbness as he sits there, thinking of how badly he’s fucked things up, how much he’s hurt his friends, his…his _family_ , this town really is his family, with the crazy uncles and annoying elders and the best little brother he could ever ask for, and Sammy hurt him, hurt Ben, God, he had hurt Ben so badly with this, he couldn’t take it.

He sees headlights in the distance maybe ten minutes later – he shakily gets to his feet, his heart beating so hard and fast in his chest he almost can’t move with fear and anxiety, but he stands there, swaying slightly with exhaustion, waiting, because even though he doesn’t know who exactly is going to be coming for him, he knows Ben’s going to be there no matter what.

He’s right – the car hasn’t even fully stopped before Ben stumbles out of the backseat, looking more terrified than Sammy’s ever seen him, but Sammy only gets a glimpse for half a second before his eyes fill with tears, fast and hot and threatening to overtake him.

He moves forward, but feels like he barely takes a step before Ben collides with him, his arms squeezing the life out of Sammy but Sammy doesn’t care – he’s there, he’s real, it’s all that matters.

Sammy realizes his arms are around Ben’s shoulders, practically cradling his head because Ben is so goddamn short, that Ben’s face is buried in the space between his chest and shoulder and just sobbing, and Sammy realizes a second later that he’s sobbing, too.

He thought he was done crying, after everything – after thinking he was going to die twice in one night, at feeling Jack close to him and yet so irreparably far away, at the idea of leaving Ben behind – but he’s not out of tears, they keep coming, they keep _pouring_.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, pulls away from Ben just slightly, just enough to see Emily and Troy standing there in the glow of the headlights, Emily with tears staining her cheeks and Troy practically shaking in his boots – Sammy’s never seen Troy look scared like that before, never seen Emily shake like that.

They both manage to hug him, silent but supportive and solid. Sammy has to use one arm, though, because Ben still hasn’t let go of him.

“We were scared,” Emily is the first to speak, soft and broken. “We were so –”

She breaks off, choked, and starts to cry again. Sammy feels a rush of guilt.

“Let’s get back into town,” Troy says quietly, a hand on Sammy’s shoulder and squeezing. “What – what do you need right now, Sammy? What’s going to…going to help…”

Troy trails off, and Sammy knows what he’s thinking, what they’re all thinking – that he can’t be helped, that he’s so far gone it’s not going to do any good.

That’s how Sammy’s always seen it, anyway. Until tonight, until right now, when all he can think is how much damage he could have caused, _did_ cause.

The Devil’s Doorstep – all those shadows – Walt –

But Ben’s not broken, Ben’s still here, at least Sammy didn’t fuck that up beyond repair.

“Someplace to stay,” Sammy finds himself croaking. “I can’t – my apartment’s not – I don’t want to be – to be _alone –_ ”

His voice breaks, he can’t keep talking. Troy and Emily’s eyes are so sympathetic, almost understanding, Sammy wishes they would just stop because he’s not worth it.

“I don’t think Ben’s planning on letting go of you anytime soon,” Troy says, tries to crack a smile, chuckle a bit, but the sound is hollow.

“Obviously,” Ben says, speaking for the first time with a rough voice, directly into Sammy’s chest, still not pulling away, his voice barely a whisper but Sammy still understands every word.

“Okay,” Sammy says, and doesn’t push Ben away. He’s pushed Ben away so much, ever since February, so scared to see even the most subtle change in how Ben treats him but also because he wanted Ben to be pissed at him, didn’t want Ben to try to follow him if he –

He can’t think about that. He just lets Ben pull him in the direction of the car.

* * *

 

_4:05 AM, June 1, 2016_

Ben’s apartment is dustier than usual, a sign that no one’s lived there in the past two weeks. Sammy wants to ask Ben where he’s been sleeping but knows it’s a conversation for a different time.

Ben holds himself like he’s fragile, like he’s going to break any second, and Sammy can’t push him, not right now. He can’t spook him and make him disappear again. Sammy’s body feels like caving in at the mere thought of it.

“You want to take a shower?” Sammy says softly as he turns on the light, shutting the door behind them. Ben’s apartment is a little smaller than his, only one bedroom, but it’s much homier than Sammy’s. It looks lived-in, with the furniture from the Good Will and vintage Star Wars posters and Ben’s shit strewn in every possible direction because he can’t keep anything neat.

Ben nods, looking even smaller than usual. Sammy gives him a slight nudge in the direction of the bathroom. “Alright, I’ll make something for – breakfast? Dinner? Four AM snack?”

He says it lightly, like a joke, but Ben barely blinks, just says a soft thanks as he disappears behind the bathroom door.

Sammy’s comforted by the sound of the shower running; it’s proof Ben is still there even though Sammy can’t see him.

There’s barely any food in Ben’s cupboards – it’s to be expected. He hasn’t been here in two weeks. Everything in his fridge is long past its expiration date, and other than a couple of bags of chips, there’s nothing meal-worthy other than a box of Mac and Cheese.

Sammy feels a bit like he’s broke and in college as he rips open the package, starts the water boiling on the stovetop. He used to live off of this, this and ramen, because no one in his apartment could cook for shit. Sammy hadn’t even been the worst cook, that was Lily, queen of takeout food. Jack had been the best, but that wasn’t saying much, Jack’s skills used to start and end with melting butter. He’d gotten better, though, while Sammy and Lily never had.

Thinking about that makes something hard and painful strike in his chest, so he chases the thought away, focuses on stirring the noodles.

Ben’s milk is expired, so Sammy uses butter instead, and by the time Ben approaches the kitchen again with wet hair, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a worn t-shirt, Sammy’s scooping it into two bowls, which is about the serving size anyway.

“Some of your stuff’s here,” Ben says when Sammy hands him the bowl. “Your backpack’s in the hall. Your toothbrush is in my bathroom.”

Sammy half grimaces in Ben’s direction as he puts the pan in the sink, filling it with hot water so he doesn’t have to deal with it right now. “I’ve been…hanging out here. Off and on. Seeing if you would – would come back –”

“Oh,” Ben says, looking down, his face going red. “I – I really worried you. I already knew that, but – but I guess I didn’t realize –”

“You’re back now,” Sammy says, coming around the side of the table to sit next to Ben. He thinks about putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder and doesn’t. “That’s what matters.”

“How’d you get in?” Ben asks, his tilt tilted curiously in Sammy’s direction. “I don’t remember giving you a key –”

“You keep your spare in the plant in the hall,” Sammy says. “Einstein, you are not.”

Ben half-smiles, almost chuckles. “Well, you can keep the key. I’ll get another one for the plant.”

Sammy feels a rush of affection for Ben that he tries to ignore. “Eat your Mac and Cheese, Ben.”

He doesn’t ask how long it’s been since Ben’s eaten. The answer would just worry him more.

Ben listens, shoveling a forkful down.

“I’ll buy you groceries tomorrow,” Sammy says, taking a bite of his own. “Something…healthier.”

“Okay, Dad,” Ben says, rolling his eyes. “I can buy my own groceries, though.”

“You can,” Sammy acknowledges. “But I’d rather buy them for you so I can have the authority of what goes in the shopping card.”

“I want Pop-Tarts, are you gonna ban me from Pop-Tarts?” Ben’s voice sounds light and cheery and utterly childish, just for half a second, and it’s like he’s forgotten everything, but then his face quickly slides back into its miserable expression, perhaps even more miserable after the split-second of happiness.

“I _guess_ you can have Pop-Tarts,” Sammy says reluctantly, hoping he can get Ben to smile like that again, but Ben just folds in on himself even more.

* * *

 

_4:36 AM, May 1, 2018_

Troy drops Sammy and Ben off outside of Ben’s apartment with a hug for each of them and a promise that he’ll call sometime in the afternoon to make sure everything’s still okay.

Sammy knows what he means. He wants to make sure that Sammy doesn’t kill himself.

He lets Ben pull him up the staircase to the second floor – Ben doesn’t have  a death grip on him anymore, but still has an arm around him – but he finally lets go when they get inside Ben’s apartment.

 “Do you –” Ben steps away, but only half a step, clearing his throat. “Do you want to take a shower, or…?”

Sammy’s numb enough still that _wanting_ things isn’t really something he’s processing yet, and decides what to say purely by the look of complete anxiety on Ben’s face presumably at Sammy being out of his sight and octopus-like grip.

“No, that’s okay,” Sammy says, his voice still a little scratchy. He steps away from Ben to sit on one of Ben’s barstools, his body sore from stress.

“I’ll, um, I’ll,” Ben says, floundering slightly. “I’ll get something to eat, I – I don’t have a lot of food. Maybe we can get – get food tomorrow. Whatever you want, alright? I’m buying.”

“Ben,” Sammy says softly, a brutal twist in his chest, “you know I’ll stay with you, right? I don’t need you buying groceries as an incentive. I’ll buy groceries as – as a thank you for…letting me stay with you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ben says after clearing his throat again. “I don’t need a thank you. I’m – I’m just – so goddamn glad you’re here, Sammy. You can stay with me for the next year and not buy groceries, pay rent, anything. I’d be thrilled to let you freeload.”

“Okay,” Sammy says, mainly to see how Ben will react, and he’s right in that Ben’s face breaks into a smile – a sad, frightened, heartbroken smile – but a smile nonetheless. “But I’ll buy groceries anyway.”

“I won’t argue,” Ben says, smile still present, but more subtle now while still equally affectionate. Sammy thinks of what it would have been like for Ben tonight without him, if the Rainbow Lights had swallowed him up, and he’s sick to his stomach.

“As for right now,” Ben says, turning to stick his head in his freezer, “frozen pepperoni pizza alright?”

“Yeah,” Sammy says, knowing that everything is going to taste like cardboard right now anyway. “That sounds…great, Ben. Thanks.”

Ben smiles to himself as he busies himself with the pizza. Sammy focuses on watching him, listening to him hum quietly and unconsciously to himself – Sammy thinks it’s something from Hamilton – all the little Ben noises that Sammy’s grown so used to over the past three years.

Not hurting Ben had been the top of Sammy’s priority list for years now, it was the only reason he was still around, and Sammy had had to block out that impulse for the past few weeks, override it with his need for Jack, but the truth was that Ben was just as important now, had wormed his way into Sammy’s entire self without ever trying to, and Sammy couldn’t hurt him, not now, not ever, that was the only thing Sammy could do that was completely unforgivable.

* * *

 

_4:55 AM, June 1, 2016_

“I think you should get to bed, I’m sure you’ve barely slept in the past two weeks,” Sammy says when Ben has finished picking at his Mac and Cheese, clearly without a huge appetite right now. Sammy doesn’t blame him, he couldn’t eat anything for weeks after Jack without throwing up, even if he does want to force-feed Ben. “I’ll be out here on the couch – we can deal with everything else tomorrow.”

Ben shudders where he sits almost involuntarily from the looks of it, his eyes suddenly fearful and wide. “Can we like – watch TV or something?”

“Oh – yeah, of course,” Sammy says, standing, letting a hand brush against Ben’s back as he takes Ben’s dish over to the sink to sit for the night. “What do you want to…?”

“Something, I don’t know, happy?” Ben says, hesitant, looking at the ground as if he’s ashamed to ask for something like that. Sammy takes a hold of Ben’s shoulder and steers him in the adjoining living room.

“Happy like a sitcom?” Sammy asks, reaching for the remote as Ben curls up on one side of the couch, drawing his knees to his chest, looking smaller than ever.

“Happy like…The X Files?” Ben suggests, not quite meeting Sammy’s eye as Sammy stares down at him.

“Um, is that really…” Sammy starts, remembering more than one alien abduction on the long run of the X Files.

“It’s my happy show,” Ben says, just the edge of defensive. “Only the happy episodes. Like the first one. Let’s watch the first one. I can quote it line by line if you want.”

“Whatever you want,” Sammy graciously says, going to Netflix and queueing up the first episode of the show while his heart hammered Jack’s name in his chest. Jack had always loved this show, too, Sammy felt a bit sick at the idea of watching it without him, but Ben needed him right now. “Not that I’m surprised or anything, Mulder.”

Ben laughs, but it’s short. Presumably he’s thinking that if he’s Mulder, Emily is Scully and is currently in the alien mothership getting operated on.

Sammy starts the episode, leaning back on the other side of the couch, kicking his feet up since Ben’s couch was pretty small. Ben’s leg was only a couple of inches from him even though they were on opposite sides.

Sammy doesn’t really notice too much when Ben gets closer. Well, he kind of notices, but mostly doesn’t care. He and Ben are always in close quarters, it doesn’t bother him like it would with anyone else being in his personal space.

He only fully takes notice when Ben makes eye contact with him when their legs are pressed together as if to say _can I_ …?

Sammy doesn’t think about the ramifications, just nods, and then Ben’s head is resting on Sammy’s shoulder.

Sammy lifts his arm, puts it around Ben. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him. Probably since Jack. It’s alright because it’s Ben, because Ben needs him. Sammy can ignore his hang-ups if Ben needs him, he can do that.

Ben’s crying by the time they hit the second episode, and Sammy doesn’t know if he should say something or just pretend he doesn’t notice.

He settles for squeezing Ben’s shoulder, letting Ben cry into him and get snot all over his shirt.

Ben’s the first to talk.

“I just miss her,” Ben whispers. “It’s like there’s a piece of me that’s been ripped out, and I know it’s her, she’s like – she’s like half of me, man, I can’t –”

“Shh,” Sammy squeezes him tightly, not knowing what else to do, wishing he could say something, wishing he had the courage to say _Ben, I know. I know so goddamn well what you’re feeling right now, it happened to me, too, is still happening to me, too. I know. I understand. I understand._

But Sammy’s fooling himself if he believes that him understanding Ben means that Ben will understand him. And besides, he doesn’t want to detract from Ben’s pain, make this about himself.

He doesn’t have to tell Ben, he has to _be here_ for Ben, be something solid for Ben to latch onto.

An anchor to keep Ben steady and in place, keep him from disappearing into nothing like Emily. Like Jack. If Sammy can just keep Ben from disappearing too, if he can keep Ben safe and steady, then maybe he can make up for all the times he’s failed before. He failed Jack – is still failing Jack – but he can’t fail Ben.

“I’m here,” Sammy finds himself saying. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

* * *

 

_5:01 AM, May 1, 2018_

“You can have my bed for the night, I’ll – I’ll – sleep on the couch,” Ben says, practically vibrating out of his skin. He’d eaten one piece of pizza when he could usually wolf down four without an issue. Sammy hadn’t even gotten all the way through one.

Sammy can tell that Ben’s about to burst out of his skin with anxiety at the idea of not being in the same room as Sammy – he’s seen the way Ben’s assessing at his apartment as if to see how many potential suicide tools are nearby. He’s already hidden his knife block behind a bread bag as if that’s going to stop Sammy if he wants to.

But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t. He’d never.

He can’t quite articulate that right now, so instead he says “You…wanna watch TV instead?”

Sammy can see the relief seep through Ben’s features, everything going just slightly more relaxed. “Yeah. I’m never gonna sleep after – after everything, no matter how exhausted I am.”

“Me neither,” Sammy admits, gesturing toward the living room and follows Ben to sit on the couch, lets Ben deal with the remote, pulling Netflix up. “You pick something, I don’t care.”

“No, no, you pick,” Ben says, earnest and wide-eyed as if somehow Sammy’s going to leave unless he’s in charge of the remote, and Sammy would laugh if he wasn’t in so much pain. “Whatever you want.”

“I’m fine with anything –” Sammy stops himself and sighs, deciding not to spend all of his energy on this. “Parks and Recreation.”

“Are you just saying that because you know it’s my favorite?” Ben regards him with a suspicious raised eyebrow, and Sammy half-heartedly kicks at his feet.

“It’s both of our favorites, genius,” Sammy snarks half-heartedly as Ben flips to the fourth season and presses play.

Sammy’s not planning on initiating any conversation or physicality, but Ben’s anxiety is still palpable, he looks like he’s about ready to vibrate out of his body with energy. He’s biting his lip hard enough that it looks painful, he’s clenching his fists together as if to stop himself from getting up and screaming, so Sammy touches his shoulder.

Ben looks over at him, his eyes absolutely _terrified_ , and Sammy tries to say that it’s okay, but the words get stuck in his throat because he doesn’t feel like anything is ever going to be okay, but he needs Ben to be.

Ben takes Sammy touching him as permission to melt back into Sammy’s side, squeezing the life out of him, and Sammy refrains from making a snarky comment about not being able to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Sammy whispers when Ben doesn’t let go. “I thought – I thought you’d be okay. I thought you were going to be okay.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ben mumbles into his shoulder, the television long-forgotten, only background noise now. “I could never be, not without you. You get that, right?”

“I won’t do it again,” Sammy says to avoid answering the question. “I mean, I’ve probably fucked things up irrevocably by doing it the first time…”

“Don’t say that,” Ben’s grip grows impossibly tighter. “The station’s down but – Chet’s okay. And whatever happened in Perdition Wood, we’ll….we’ll figure it out. Tomorrow, we’ll figure it out tomorrow, just as long as you’re here, just as long as you’re staying.”

 “If you want me to,” Sammy says, and Ben pulls away to glare at him, to shove at him with a hurt look in his eye and Sammy immediately regrets his word choice even though he meant it as innocuous.

“You do realize that this was like, the worst night of my life, right?” Ben says, and doesn’t give Sammy a chance to answer. “And I know you know that I’ve had a lot of bad fucking nights. But Emily didn’t _try_ to leave, didn’t go purposefully. You tried to die tonight, Sammy. I’ve never felt like a worse person before. You wanted to die and I was just going on and on about fucking contracts and how much of a mistake you were making by going back to the big city, but you wanted to _die_ and I didn’t – I couldn’t – I was so helpless –”

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” Sammy pulls Ben back closer to him, says a fuck off to his hang ups and holds Ben as tight as he can, to show up that he’s not leaving. “It’s – it’s not your fault, it was _never_ your fault, you’re what I wanted to stay alive _for_ , alright? It’s my fault, my mistake, I shouldn’t have –”

“But I should’ve noticed, I should’ve helped,” Ben says, his forehead pressing onto Sammy’s shoulder, his hands digging into Sammy’s side. “And I didn’t. Fuck, I was so happy earlier when I kissed Emily, I wasn’t even thinking that you could be out there, needing my help –”

“Hold on,” Sammy says, pushing Ben away from him so he can get a good look at his face, which has gone bright red since he realized what he said. “You kissed Emily?”

Ben smiles almost shyly, in that besotted way he gets whenever Emily is brought into a conversation and says, much higher pitched, “Yeah, yeah, I did.”

Sammy laughs, and feels happy, really feels happy, even if he still feels horrible underneath it. “Finally!”

“Oh, shut up,” Ben says, but he’s clearly happy too. “You’re distracting me from my point. But now I’ve got a new point to make – I _never_ thought I would kiss Emily. I thought there was no chance for us so many times – when she was gone, after the shit with Frickard, I thought she’d never, ever be here, that she’d never love me the way I love her. But now she’s _here_ and – and we’re _together_ and – I kissed her, I can’t believe I kissed her.”

Ben’s almost giddy for a second, but his expression quickly fades into something much more serious as he leans in and squeezes Sammy’s shoulder, his eyes intent. “I lost hope over and over again for me and Emily, but it happened. So don’t think it can’t happen to you, okay? Can you please – please just try?”

Sammy sighs, the genuine look in Ben’s eye too much to take. “For you. I can try for you. Maybe someday I can try for Jack but – but he just feels unreachable.”

“We’ll work our way up,” Ben says solemnly as his eyes flicker back toward the television. “Alright, we have to rewind, we missed too much.”

“It’s a sitcom we’ve seen like three times,” Sammy says half-heartedly, but let’s Ben rewind. And even though he shouldn’t be surprised after a night of Ben clinging onto him, he’s somehow still surprised when Ben curls around him, head on his shoulder, without any form of hesitation.

“I can hear you thinking, what are you thinking?” Ben mutters a couple minutes later. “Don’t make me rewind again.”

“Just that – you’re still comfortable with me, with this,” Sammy says, not quite knowing how to articulate himself but still wanting to, to show Ben he was grateful even if he couldn’t always express it well. “I mean, I think you’ve gone _more_ physically demonstrative after you found out…well, about me –than less.”

“Well, yeah,” Ben says, a little disgruntled, as if that was obvious. “You need me. I mean, you’ve always needed me, but that’s when I _knew_ you needed me more than you’d been letting on. And I had to show you that I loved you, since you weren’t exactly believing me when I told you.”

“I always believed you,” Sammy said, not really arguing but more making a case. “I just – I don’t know, I’ve always been really careful about physical affection, I always think I’m gonna make it weird because –”  

Ben makes a disgruntled noise into Sammy’s shoulder. “Are you trying to say that you hold yourself back from being affectionate because you’re gay and you think it’s weird? Because that train of thought is banned from now on, okay? It’s not weird.”

“I just didn’t want you to think –” Sammy starts, having no fucking clue how to begin saying this. “Especially since I’ve literally _told_ you that you remind me of my fiancé –”

“Dude,” Ben says, his arms going even tighter around Sammy’s waist. “I get it, you’re not attracted to me. It’s very sad and quite honestly, I’m offended that you’re not.”

Sammy can’t help but laughing. Ben’s the best friend that he could ever ask for and he’s always known that, but Ben proves that more and more every day.

“Seriously, though,” Ben says, his expression going soft. “You can be affectionate with me as much as you want – I sure as hell know that I’m probably going to be permanently attached to you for like, the next three to seven weeks, so like, get used to that…”

Sammy laughs again, but Ben’s not done. “But it’s never going to be weird, okay? You’re my brother, and not the Game of Thrones gross and incestuous kind of brother. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re not into any Game of Thrones shit, though now _is_ the time to let me know…”

“I’m not into it,” Sammy says, and Ben grins, tired but still happy, maybe the happiest Sammy’s seen him look tonight. He quickly gets an excited glint in his eye as he props his chin up to grin even wider at Sammy.

“Oh my God, though, do you have a crush on someone in Game of Thrones?” Ben asks, and Sammy groans, of course this is what has been excited. “Because I remember like, last fall when we were watching it and I asked you and you turned bright red and wouldn’t answer.”

“I turned red because you’d just told me you wanted Gwendolyn Christie to punch you in the face!” Sammy doesn’t shove Ben off of him, because having the pressure of Ben against him is actually kind of nice, not that he’s going to admit that out loud. “No one needs to know that about you, Ben!”

“I stand by it,” Ben says, not even blinking, unashamed. “But you totally had a crush on someone, and now is the perfect time for you to tell me so we can bond over it. I bet it’s Jon Snow, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Sammy groans. “And yes, obviously it’s Jon Snow, though I’m not sure why that’s a bonding moment.”

“Because you’re telling me about a celebrity crush, which you’ve never done before!” Ben says, smiling at Sammy’s admission. “I just want you to be comfortable telling me anything, alright, dude? Anything. Including if you want Kit Harrington to punch you in the face.”

“I do not,” Sammy says. “Nor should _anyone_.”

“Oh, you want the hot tub cave scene, that’s alright, that’s legit, I don’t blame you for that,” Ben starts and Sammy starts shoving at him.

“I will literally pay you to stop talking,” Sammy grouches, but Ben just digs in deeper to Sammy’s side which, if Sammy’s honest with himself, is more than fine.

“So who do you like in Parks?” Ben asks when Sammy’s decided to let Ben stay put, not that he was ever going to push him away. “I like Aubrey Plaza. I wouldn’t say no if she wanted to punch me in the face.”

“I hate you,” Sammy says. “I guess if I had to choose, Adam Scott?”

“Good choice, that’s who I would choose of the dudes, too,” Ben says and then says something about kink-shaming  him that makes Sammy retort about him sounding like Jacob Williams, and Ben tells him he’s so offended he’s not speaking to him for two whole minutes, and then breaks after thirty seconds to ask Sammy if he should start singing through conversations like Jean Ralphio just to be annoying, and Sammy –

Sammy almost feels okay. After possibly the worst night of both of their lives, he and Ben fall asleep half-heartedly bantering in front of the TV, and Sammy takes a second to think about how it really is a miracle that he’s still here, and thinks about what Ben’s night would have been if Sammy had really disappeared, and takes a second to be so, so grateful that he’s not dead, that Ben is going to be okay.

And since Ben, by his own statement, isn’t ever going to be okay without Sammy – Sammy’s glad that he’s okay too, at least for now.

* * *

 

_3:47 PM, June 1, 2016_

Sammy wakes up disoriented, with no clue where he is, but feeling the warm pressure of someone on top of him.

 _Jack,_ his brain only lets him think for half a second, even though he knows it’s wrong immediately.

He cracks an eye open, sees Ben snoring on his chest, Sammy’s shirt still wet with the tears that ring around his red eyes.

Sammy takes a second to run a comforting hand across Ben’s back before slowly pushing Ben off of him, cracking his back as he gets off the couch and gently laying Ben back against the reclining section. He makes his way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Ben wakes up, blinks blearily and looks around as if he’s missing something – Sammy tries not to feel too bad about not letting him sleep longer – and Sammy wordlessly lifts up the brewing coffee when Ben meets his eye.

Ben almost smiles, pads into the kitchen, but won’t take the cup of coffee until he gives Sammy a tight, bone-crushing hug.

Sammy doesn’t get choked up, but he comes close.

* * *

 

_4:12 PM, May 1, 2018_

Sammy wakes up and immediately knows that it’s Ben on top of him because he’s really only half-slept through most of the day, always very aware that he’s on Ben’s couch. Ben, however, is completely dead to the world as he snores.

Sammy opens his eyes, doesn’t move to check his phone or start coffee. Practically every part of his body hurts, his heart is practically aching as he thinks about what he did last night, about how close he came to Jack, about the repercussions his actions could have, the people he could have hurt.

Right now, he can feel Ben’s heartbeat which is enough to keep him going. He closes his eyes, drifts back into his usual uneasy sleep, focuses on Ben breathing, because that’s always been what’s gotten him through the past three years, there’s no reason it can’t get him through today.


End file.
